


Draco's Side of the Story

by ladyroxanne21



Series: Draco's Side [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Draco is quite keen on a muggle artist named Madonna, Flamboyant Draco, Gen, Hopeful Ending, No smut! WTF?!, Pining, Reference to partial molestation, References to avunculism, This is what I think Draco was doing during those seven books, Which is all Pansy's fault!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: We all know what Harry was doing, but all we really know about Draco is what Harry noticed. Here's how I interpret some of the major encounters between them :-D





	Draco's Side of the Story

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, Harry started Hogwarts in 1991, so Draco being a fan of songs from the late 80s is actually fitting, lol :-)

 

 

**Age five**

Narcissa laughed when she found her son playing in her closet. “Draco, love, why have you thrown all of mummy's things on the floor?”

Draco spun around rather wobbily because the dress he was wearing was far too big for him. “You said we were going to dance today,” he reminded her with an adorably imperious tone of voice and mannerisms that made her smile. “I decided that if we were going to dance, I was going to look pretty like a princess.”

Narcissa continued to grin as she studied the way he had even gotten into her makeup and managed to make himself look mostly perfectly made up. There were only just a few smudges and stray lines – which made sense when she thought about it because he had always been an artistic child and very rarely colored out of the lines once he'd turned four and had enough control over his hands to exert any sort of precision. His color choice – on the other hand – made him look like a Chinese bride.

“Well, I suppose that dressing up makes dancing even more fun,” she admitted. “I think I will too, but first, let me fix that dress so that it fits you.”

Draco beamed up at her with so much adoration that her heart felt flooded with sunshine. Draco picked out the most ornate ballgown she owned for her to dress up in. When ready, they made their way to the ballroom and danced for hours, laughing and giggling nearly the entire time.

“What's this?” Lucius demanded with a highly disapproving frown when he discovered them a bit before dinner time.

Narcissa sighed and shook her head. “Don't be such a stick in the mud, my love. _All_ children play dress up when they are young. It doesn't _mean_ anything.”

Lucius harrumphed coldly. “ _Other_ children may do such common things, but it's not seemly for _Malfoys_ to dress like _girls_.”

Draco frowned, puzzled. “But what if they _are_ girls?”

Lucius gave him a look that clearly wondered how stupid he was. “Well, _obviously_ girls are allowed to dress like girls, but since you are my _son_ , you are not.”

Draco was still frowning in confusion. “So... it's bad for boys to dress like girls?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “I didn't say that either. _Some_ men enjoy that sort of thing. However, Malfoy's are above such, er, base desires.”

Narcissa sighed again and shook her head. “Oh Lucius...”

“What?” Lucius asked defensively.

“He's far too young to understand anything you just said.”

“Regardless, he'll remember my words,” Lucius stated dismissively. “Now, Draco, go change and clean up for dinner.”

“Yes father,” Draco mumbled as he left to do exactly that.

 

***

 

**Age ten**

Draco hummed in concentration even as he played a rather complicated piece on the piano.

“Wonderful, darling!” Narcissa complimented joyously. “You're so talented!”

Draco smiled at her. “I don't think it's talent if I just like doing it.”

“Oh, it is,” Narcissa assured him. “Are you hungry? You've been playing since breakfast.”

“No,” Draco replied with a shake of his head.

“Then how would you like to dance with me for a bit?”

“Love to.”

Narcissa watched with an enormous amount of motherly pride as her rather dashing son stood up and bowed to her. He was wearing an expensive but casual robe designed to be both beautiful and comfortable. He looked every bit like his father had at that age, which made her want to hug him so tightly that he'd have trouble breathing.

“Shall we dress up first?” She asked teasingly.

“Hardly,” Draco answered with a scowl.

“Ah, too bad,” Narcissa lamented even as she let him pull her into his arms and lead the dance. The instruments were charmed to float around playing soft and lovely music.

After a while, Lucius entered the room and smiled at them. “It's a bit sad that in just a few short months, Draco will be away at school and we'll no longer be able to have these lovely little family moments. Well, not as often, in any case.”

Narcissa hummed in agreement as her husband swept her into his arms. Draco caught a violin as it floated by and played it until the elegant dance ended and Lucius beckoned to him.

“Come here, son, and let me teach you a dance my grandfather taught me when I was your age.”

“Alright,” Draco murmured, letting the violin float and play on its own once more.

Lucius led Draco through an old fashioned line dance. “Remember Draco, when a man dances, he must always carry himself with confidence and strength. Maintain a solid posture. _Know_ that you are the most important person in the room!”

“Of course!” Draco agreed with a haughty scoff. “I'm a Malfoy!”

Lucius smiled at his son, so very proud of the boy who was very much a miniature version of himself. “I think you might even make Minister for Magic someday.”

“Which would make me like a King, right?” Draco asked curiously.

“Yes, although our family is already Ancient and Noble, so you're much like a Prince in our world,” Lucius reminded him.

“Does that mean I can have a dragon for my birthday?” Draco asked shrewdly.

Lucius harrumphed a laugh. “As much as I'd _love_ to give you everything you want – even that – sadly, that's illegal. Even so, I might consider it if we had enough room to keep a dragon, but despite the fact that our lands are quite large, full grown dragons require leagues of territory to hunt and fly. I'm quite certain _that_ would draw notice from the local muggles, and thus the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We must _never_ do anything so overtly illegal that our lawyers cannot have the charges dismissed.”

“Lucius!” Narcissa cried out in protest. “If we want our son to be Minister someday, he should learn to never do anything illegal because it'll be used against him during the election!”

“That too,” Lucius murmured in agreement, shrugging a bit carelessly.

Draco rather got the impression that both his parents wouldn't mind him doing illegal things so long as he was always careful that he never got caught and tarnished his spotless reputation. Strangely, he couldn't actually picture himself committing any crimes. What would he do? _Steal_? When he had an allowance so large that he could buy pretty much anything he wanted, what would be the point?

 

***

 

**First Year**

“Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?”

Draco stopped short at the red-headed commoner's words. _Dragon_ ??? He'd give almost _anything_ to have a dragon. Or even just see one.

“We’ve got lessons, we’ll get into trouble, and that’s nothing to what Hagrid’s going to be in when someone finds out what he’s doing —”

“Shut up!” Potter whispered urgently, spotting Draco standing there, probably looking like a moron because dragons were one of his few weaknesses.

A little later on, during morning break, Draco shook off his henchmen and surreptitiously followed Potter to the cottage where that enormous and crude man lived. Or at least, Draco thought he lived here, but this hut was smaller than Draco's bedroom, and so it was hard to picture someone calling this a house.

Looking around until he was certain no one was watching him, Draco carefully peered in through the window. It was a bit difficult to see what was going on at first – since there were three kids and a man big enough to be at least half a giant somewhat in his way. But then! A large egg seemed to explode and a small black dragon with disproportionately large wings, budding horns, and large yellow eyes flopped around on the table.

“Dragon...” Draco exhaled in awe as the baby spouted sparks due to a frankly adorable sneeze. “Aww, it's _beautiful_!”

He could hear Hagrid's booming voice say: “Isn't he _beautiful?_ Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!”

Draco couldn't help but feel a tiny rush of affection for the man who so obviously loved dragons – maybe even as much as Draco did. Hagrid looked up and spotted Draco, paling in alarm. Very much alarmed himself, Draco spun around and ran flat out back toward the castle.

For the next week Malfoy couldn't help but grin because he'd seen a _real live dragon_! When he heard that Weasley was in the hospital wing because of a mysterious bite, he made an excuse to go visit him, just to see if he could learn anything new about the dragon. Had it grown? Was it doing well? Was it getting enough to eat?

Before he really got any useful information, the excuse he'd used – of borrowing a book from Weasley – backfired. Madam Pomfrey came over and insisted that he just get on with it after only a few short minutes of hurling amusing taunts and thinly veiled threats. Thus, he was forced to snatch the only book Weasley had on him and leave.

He almost tossed the book in a rubbish bin, but sheer curiosity prompted him to flip through the book. A note fell out that read:

_Dear Ron, how are you? Thanks for the letter — I’d be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won’t be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn’t be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it’s still dark. Send me an answer as soon as possible. Love, Charlie_

Well now... Draco might get a chance to see the dragon again after all...

Except that when Draco snuck up to the corridor leading up to the tower, he got caught by McGonagall and was given detention.

Draco could've just cried! Worst of all was that she was dragging him away before he could see the baby dragon. How big had it grown?

In desperation, he tried to get her to see reason and at _least_ let him catch a glimpse. “You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming — he's got a dragon!”

“What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on — I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

Sighing heavily in defeat, and still feeling like he was about to cry, Draco stopped fighting before he got himself into even worse trouble.

 

***

 

**Second Year**

_Dear mother and father, I'm still rather disappointed that you wanted me to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas hols, but I trust that you'll send all my presents to the castle. I told everyone that I wanted to stay behind and look for the Chamber of Secrets – since I'm the mostly likely person to be great Salazar Slytherin's Heir, so it's not all bad. Don't worry, I'm not_ actually _looking for the stupid chamber. I have no wish to be petrified like that Creevy creep._

 _Anyway, there's something interesting I want to tell you. One of our Professors – an absolute idiot named Lockhart – held a Dueling Club. I was paired with Potter, which was fun. I positively_ loved _having an opportunity to hex him with impunity. Professor Snape arranged an opportunity for me to hex Potter in front of everyone – he was supposed to block, but Lockhart didn't bother to teach him the correct procedure. So, at Snape's advice, I cast Serpentsortia._

 _I produced a rather impressive black adder that made half the audience step back in fear. It was_ brilliant! _And then, possibly best of all, Potter spoke to the snake. In Parseltongue! He's a Parselmouth! He looked half mad as he glared at the snake. His green eyes flashed vibrantly and his black hair seemed to blow about in a wind – although the hall was calm with all the windows closed. Snape vanished the sake and I immediately longed to conjure another just to see if Potter would hiss at it too._

_Oh! Before I forget, I've run out of my favorite chocolate from Honeydukes. The dark variety with pecans, caramel, and sea salt. Could you please send me some? Love always, Draco_

 

***

 

During the summer holidays between Second and Third Year, Draco did his best to stay out of his father's way. Lucius was furious that Harry Potter had managed to free one of their house elves named Dobby. Draco privately thought that his father shouldn't be all that upset since Dobby was a snoopy fellow, always sneaking around and sticking his nose where it didn't belong. It was probably for the best that he was free.

The rest of the elves were _scandalized_ at Dobby's happiness at being free. It was the equivalent of Draco strutting naked across the Quidditch Pitch during a game and stroking himself vulgarly. He then had hours of fun thinking about how each and every person he knew would react if he actually did such a thing. His mother would probably faint! McGonagall would take at least 50 House points and assign a month's worth of detention. Snape would probably try to help him blame someone (more than likely Potter) by claiming that his clothes had been jinxed off.

For some strange reason, Draco thought that Dumbledore was likely to react as if he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, maybe with a faint smirk of amusement.

All in all, it was entertaining to think about. _Not_ that he would ever do such a thing. Salazar's warty nose! That would be _mortifying!_

As Draco performed the same skin care routine that he'd watched both his mother and father perform countless times before they deemed him old enough to think about his own skin health, a thought occurred to him. How was using potions and other products that had been proven to maintain inherent beauty over the course of centuries – how was that _really_ any different than wearing makeup to enhance beauty? His father might not like to admit it, but his flawless skin and flowing locks lent him a feminine quality that just slightly softened his hard and steely masculinity.

For the first time since he was five, Draco snuck into his parents suite when they were gone. He sat at his mother's vanity for close to two hours inspecting and experimenting with her magically enhanced makeup. When he was done, he decided that there were certain things he could do to very subtly enhance his looks without being obvious. Such as a very thin line around the inside of his eye lids – on the part that formed a seem when he closed his eyes. Just that simple thing made his eyes seem to pop with color and vibrancy.

His mother had always felt that makeup was best worn in a way that appeared natural – as if nothing covered an inherently flawless face. So, she had a wide array of products that were very nearly the same color as her skin tone. Since Draco had inherited her complexion, this meant that he could use some of the same colors. When he was done, he was proud to see that he looked like he could be a model in a Quidditch supply catalog. There was nothing obvious to indicate he was wearing makeup, but he was.

This made him feel so empowered that he wanted to dance a lively jig. Since he had the Manor to himself – more or less – he decided that there was no reason not to. After casting a duplication charm on all the products he wanted to keep, he ran off to the ballroom, where he ordered the instruments to play him energetic music.

After a while, despite having fun, he realized that he was a bit lonely. Now that he'd spent two whole years grumbling about sharing a dorm with four other boys, he was _shocked_ to realize that he'd grown used to having someone in his hair or under his foot at all times. Being alone just wasn't as peaceful as he thought it'd be.

“Muffy!” He called out abruptly.

“Yes Master Draco?”

He smirked at his personal house elf. “I'm bored. Have all the elves pop into the ballroom.”

Looking confused, Muffy nodded and popped out of the room to do as ordered. When she returned, she had a dozen elves with her. They all looked at Draco a bit warily.

“Alright, first off, all of you are _forbidden_ to tell my parents that I've often tuned the wireless to play muggle music. Understand?” Draco demanded.

All the elves grumbled and nodded in obedient acceptance.

“Good!” Draco crowed happily as he turned on the wireless and adjusted it until he found what he was looking for. It played the last 20 or 30 seconds of a song Draco liked, and then started on one of his favorites – that he would _die_ before he ever admitted to _anyone_ that he actually liked it. “Instruments, listen up! I want you to remember and play this song whenever I ask for it.”

The instruments didn't respond, but he knew that it was part of their magic to do as asked. As the song played, Draco lightly danced to it, making his elves wonder why he'd demanded their presence. They decided he simply wanted an audience and politely clapped when the song was over.

Draco turned the wireless off. “Right! Now, here's what I want. Can you all remember the song? I want you to sing it with me in a little bit, but first – you there! Do this!” He demonstrated a few steps that Pansy had taught him at some point. “Yeah, like that. Perfect.”

The thing was that elves had to obey orders, so no matter what he ordered them to do, they had to do it. Thus, when he ordered them to perform dance steps, they did it exactly as he showed them, even if they normally couldn't dance.

“You and you, do this... good. Muffy, I want you to do this... lovely! The rest of you are going to do a basic sway... exactly! Right! Let's do this!”

Draco ordered the instruments to play the music, and when it came time, he led his elves in singing the song.

“You must be my [lucky star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThHz9wlBeLU), 'cuz you shine on me wherever you are. I just think of you and I start to glow, and I need your light and baby you know. Star light, star bright! First star I see tonight. Star light, (star bright)! Make everything alright. Star light, star bright! First star I see tonight. Star light, (star bright)! Yeah. You must be my lucky star, 'cuz you make the darkness seem so far. When I'm lost, be my guide, I just turn around and you're by my side. Star light, star bright! First star I see tonight. Star light, (star bright)! Make everything alright. Star light, star bright! First star I see tonight. Star light, (star bright)! Yeah.”

Draco was pleased that the elves were singing the song and dancing the steps fairly well. They sounded weird because they were elves and didn't really have human voices, but that just made it funny and all the more entertaining in Draco's mind.

When the song was over, he had them start over. By the third time, they were all really getting into it. The elves were confident that Draco wouldn't mind if they embellished the steps a little to go with the music better, and Draco had come up with an entire dance routine based solely on how the music made his body feel like moving.

By the time his parents returned, Draco almost felt that they could perform professionally! However, when an elf squeaked that the Master had returned and was calling for him (the elf), Draco hastily switched the music to something appropriate for a parentally approved foxtrot.

“Draco, darling!” Narcissa cried out in delight when she discovered him dancing all by himself – having sent the elves back to wherever they were supposed to be.

Draco swept one arm out and the other toward his chest as he bowed to her rather charmingly. “May I have this dance, mother?”

“Certainly, my love,” Narcissa accepted with a warm smile. “I daresay dancing with you is better by far than that _troll_ at the Ministry ball tonight that kept trying to persuade me to convince your father to grant him a favor – but that's nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Narcissa studied her son carefully, biting back a soft smirk. “You must have been dancing for _hours,_ darling, you look positively disheveled and flushed!”

Draco felt inexplicably embarrassed. “Er... well, yes. I had nothing better to do.”

“I suppose you're old enough now that we can start bringing you to all the important parties with us,” Narcissa murmured in a thoughtful tone. “I know that you would act like a perfect gentleman and be a credit to our name.”

Draco shrugged, not entirely certain that he _wanted_ to go to prim and proper pureblood parties.

Narcissa huffed in an elegant version of frustration. “I've had enough of tame dances for one night! How would you like to learn a rather lively dance called a Salsa?”

“Isn't that a muggle dance?”

“So they like to think,” Narcissa replied with a mischievous wink. She set the instruments to play upbeat music. “Stand next to me, put your hand in mine, and follow along...”

Maintaining the energetic and fun spirit of the dance, Narcissa taught her son the version that was appropriate for a boy of just barely thirteen. Draco just _loved_ the way her sleek and shimmering ballgown spun and swayed, although, he eventually had to remove his light and airy silk robe to prevent himself from sweating to death – which meant that he was now wearing a simple pair of black trousers with a white button up shirt. When they were done, nearly two hours later, Draco was more disheveled than ever, but he'd had so much fun.

They kissed each other on the cheek and murmured: “Goodnight.”

That night, Draco dreamt of dancing in a club full of dark haired strangers.

 

***

 

**Third Year**

From the moment that Draco first saw the Dementors, they captured his imagination. He drew picture after picture of them, sticking them to the wall of his dorm with _non_ permanent sticking charms.

“No, that's not gloomy at all,” Blaise drawled sarcastically as he inspected a rather realistic sketch.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I find them fascinating.”

At some point near the end of the Year, Draco realized that they might have a chance to win the House Cup – or at least the Quidditch Cup – if Potter didn't catch the Snitch in the last game. So, using his sketches as a base design, he planned out and learned all the charms necessary to make a pair of Dementor costumes.

Crabbe and Goyle were always up for a bit bullying, so they all had a surprising amount of fun dressing up in the costumes and practicing how to move in them as realistically as possible. Draco felt good about his plan.

Until it backfired.

Potter cast a spell that created a silvery stag that ran them down and startled them – making them fall over into a heap. Draco stared up at the stag in awe until it disappeared, wondering what the spell was and if it could be used to create a dragon. Then he watched Potter catch the snitch after all and sighed in disgruntled disappointment.

 

***

 

Draco stared at his reflection in his vanity and wondered yet again why he had declined to go to the party with his parents. It's not like he had anything else to do. Now he was just lonely.

He picked up the container of rosy lip color. It was only a few shades darker than his natural lip pigment, and when applied with a light hand, wasn't very noticeable. Pansy had given it to him when he had noticed her frown after applying it to her lips one morning when the common room was mostly empty because most students had already gone off to breakfast.

“What's the matter?” He'd wondered.

“This color only looks good on me in direct sunlight. I wish I'd realized that when I bought it.”

“I don't know, I think it matches your natural color almost perfectly,” Draco observed with a shrug.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “The _point_ of wearing lip color is to _enhance_ one's beauty. For example...” She applied the color to Draco's lips, going fairly quickly because she expected him to protest, but he was curious enough to hold still and let her. When she was done, she held up a mirror for him to see the result. “Now _you_ – on the other hand – your lips are naturally lighter than this, so this enhances _your_ lips almost perfectly. Actually, it makes you look oh so kissable.”

Draco turned his head side to side as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. If he didn't know better, he'd think he wasn't wearing anything and that his lips were normally just a little flushed looking. “Hmm... You're right...” Then he frowned. “But what am I supposed to say if someone realizes that I'm wearing lip color and teases me for it?”

Pansy laughed and shook her head. “If anyone is studying your appearance that closely, there's probably _a reason_ they're noticing your lips have color on them. Just claim that you got it from kissing me and watch the jealousy darken their face.

Slowly, a catty smirk stretched Draco's mouth. She was right! Even if he wore something noticeable in the future, he could always claim he got it during a proper snog, and who would really want to argue that?

Now, all alone in his bedroom, he applied all the subtle makeup he was now in the habit of wearing – just not in front of his father. When that didn't take longer than half an hour, he sighed from boredom again.

“I suppose I could always teach the elves a new dance.” Especially since he and Pansy tended to while away their boredom by dancing in the Slytherin Common Room after finishing their homework. She had an older cousin that taught her all the hottest moves, and Draco was one of the few willing to practice them with her.

Once in the ballroom, Draco pulled a disc out of the pocket of his semi-formal robes. It held all of his favorite songs on it and was specifically created to work with the small wizard wireless he owned. He fast forwarded through several songs until he found one that he wanted to sing.

“Muffy! Bring the elves!”

Once again, this was a song that Draco would be _mortified_ if anyone knew he liked it. Hell! He'd probably be mortified if anyone found out that he _knew_ the song, but it had a good beat and appealed to him for some reason he just could not figure out.

When the elves were assembled, he assigned the baker's dozen various parts, warning them that: “You'd better shake your hips like you mean it! And you! Don't forget to catch me when I lean backwards on you!”

“Yes Master Draco...”

Satisfied after a few practice tries, Draco played the song for the elves to learn the lyrics – and also for the instruments to learn the music – and then played it for the first of what would probably be a lot of performances. He liked to get things _just right_ after all.

“Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they're okay. If they don't give me proper credit, I just walk away! They can beg and they can plead, but they can't see the light – that's right! – 'cuz the boy with the cold hard cash is always Mr. Right! 'Cuz we are living in a material world and I am a [material girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNSUOFgj97M), you know that we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl!”

After the fourth or fifth performance, Draco once more thought that they could dance on stage professionally if he cared to. However, it wouldn't do to have his parents come home early and walk in on him singing about being a _girl_ of all things, so he changed the lyric to material boy. After two performances of that, he decided that he should probably switch to another song altogether.

“Okay, all of you simply need to bounce in place, like this,” Draco ordered as he demonstrated. This song was designed for a completely different sort of dance than his parents had ever allowed in the Manor. Good thing Pansy had a cousin who liked the club scene...

“Call me Mr. Raider, call me Mr. Wrong, call me [Mr. Vain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfWb_60lhw0). Call me Mr. Raider, call me Mr. Wrong, call me Insane. I know what I want and I want it now, I want you 'cuz I'm Mr. Vain. I know what I want and I want it now, I want you 'cuz I'm Mr. Vain.”

The next part was a bit of a tongue twister and it took a few tries for Draco to memorize it and get it right, but soon, he was singing the rap fairly smoothly. Once more, the house elves decided that they had permission to dance as they liked and bounced and hopped around in circles surrounding Draco as he let the music move his body – sometimes hopping, sometimes shaking his hips, always moving his feet pretty fast.

“Girls are all over the world, they hope and pray and die for men like me, cause I'm the one begotten son that breaks the mold. Get a look at the male epitome, style has never seen that makes you want to grab and hold and squeeze real tight. Who's gonna be the one to save you from yourself, when you want to take a bite? Please oh baby please, you beg; you want to say you got to get some caught up in the charm, that I laid on thick, and now there's nowhere to run. Just another fish on the hook of my lines –”

“Draco! What are you doing?!” Lucius demanded, both scandalized and horrified to see his son dancing to crude music with all of their elves. And singing such lyrics!

Draco was embarrassed but utterly grateful that his parents hadn't come home earlier. “Er... just having a bit of fun...”

“Is this _muggle music?_ ” Lucius asked with clear distaste.

Draco shrugged. “Don't know. It's just something that's been popular in the Slytherin Common Room for a few months.”

“Well...” unable to come up with anything to say, Lucius turned and left the room. “Good night, son!” He called over his shoulder.

Narcissa laughed softly. “Good night, love. And next time, have the elves wave streamers.”

Draco laughed dismissively until he pictured them doing that and realized that it might be a good idea after all.

 

***

 

**Fourth Year**

_Dear mother and father, I am still highly upset that Quidditch has been canceled for this stupid tournament. It's not like the three tasks take up more than a day each, and honestly, there are only four students in the entire school that need to spend any time or effort on the tasks, so_ why not _let the rest of us play Quidditch as usual? Can't you_ do _something about this?_

_In any case, the first task was today. I was proudly wearing my Support Cedric Diggory/Potter Stinks! Badge – as were more than half the school. I'm such a genius! It only took me a single weekend to create and charm them so that they can't be tampered with, but it's only what that git deserves for slipping his name into the Goblet of Fire and getting away with it._

_He's such a... word I am too well mannered to say. The three_ real _champions took the time and effort to come up with a strategy to use against the dragons – dragons! Did you know there were going to be dragons?!?! When I saw them, I almost squealed like a First Year girl! But don't worry, I kept my composure and acted like a dignified Malfoy is supposed to, but dragons!!! I still want one! The Chinese Fireball was gorgeous, but I digress._

 _As I was saying, when it came time for_ Potter _to get past the dragon and grab the golden egg, he cheated! The judges say it was legal because all he used was his wand – as the rules dictated – but he used his wand to summon his broom. How unfair is that? None of the others used a broom! And not just_ any _broom, but a Firebolt! You do realize that the Firebolt is the elite broom of the International Quidditch Players, right?_

_If Potter is allowed to have a Firebolt, I want one too. Will you buy me one for Christmas?_

_But getting back to his disgraceful cheating. He hopped on his broom, looking like fleet-footed Mercury, messenger of the Gods. He wove back and forth and side to side, dodging gouts of flames and the wickedly barbed tail of the_ enormous _Hungarian Horntail. I thought for sure he was going to be knocked off his broom more than once – which would have been sweet justice! But no. He flew like he was born with a broom between his legs._

_In mere minutes, with his dark black hair whipping around his head like a Merlin cursed halo, and his emerald eyes glinting with determination, Harry stupid Potter – slightly singed and definitely looking like something a troll dragged in – thwarted the dragon and obtained the golden egg. I was so upset that I couldn't breathe! How dare he?!_

_I should make more badges and have them read_ Potter Cheats! _But that would probably be a waste of time since everyone else seems to consider him a golden boy once more. I wish someone would just hex him into a slug and feed him to his owl._

_In closing, did I leave my formal shoes at home? With the Yule Ball coming up, Pansy and I – and actually the entire upper half of our House – have been practicing our dancing, and I want to practice in my shoes so they're not so stiff at the ball, only I can't find them. Love always, Draco_

 

***

 

Draco watched in disbelief as Potter stumbled his way through the opening dance. Did _no one_ think to teach him how to dance? One would think that his Head of House would want to avoid this shamefully embarrassing display. It made Draco _cringe_ from secondhand embarrassment!

At least Draco didn't have to worry about making a fool of himself. When the floor opened up to the rest of the students, Draco led Pansy to the very center, knowing that they would likely attract most of the attention soon enough. However, the first few dances were heavily supervised by the Professors, and so they kept things relatively tame. Beautiful and elegant ballroom dances that purebloods favored. Draco's black velvet robes (that made him look a bit like one of those muggle clergymen) and Pansy's frilly pink ones were well suited to this style of dance.

Finally, some of the Professors left to keep an eye on the students who snuck out to wander the grounds. Those who were left were busy dancing themselves and not keeping such a close eye on the students on the floor. Thus, when the right beat started, Draco and Pansy smirked at each other.

They – along with Blaise and Daphne and a handful of older couples from Slytherin – burst into a group dance that was not only energetic, but also fairly complicated. It was a [Salsa](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSCMFNf6bPc) that Pansy's cousin had taught her and she'd taught the rest of them. Only Draco and Pansy (and Blaise, but sadly not Daphne so he couldn't do it anyway) were talented enough to do the flashiest moves. Draco's favorite part was when Pansy formed a circle with her right leg and arm – thanks to a strategic split in her dress robes – that Draco literally dove through. Draco also had strategic splits in his robes so that he could kick his leg high in the air when she did.

The dance wasn't actually inappropriate, but it wasn't entirely appropriate either, which made them think they might be chastised, but no. Dumbledore looked impressed, and since he didn't seem to mind, the rest of the Professors grudgingly left them alone.

The next [dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiZcWuUBjHQ) was something Draco and Pansy had choreographed together, and yes, it _could_ be considered inappropriate. However, they were betting that the crowd of students around them would make it slightly difficult for the Professors to see. And if they got in trouble, well... it would be worth it.

To their surprise, and good fortune, the rest of their House mates had watched them practice the slightly naughty dance enough that they _all_ performed it. (As much as they could.) Which made the Professors decide that it must be the current fashion and that since it was rather well done, they let the naughtiness slide.

After that, they stopped pushing their luck and stuck to tamer dances with only one or two flashy moves thrown into each. When Draco had a chance to look around and see if Potter was seething with jealousy that Draco was clearly better than him, the arrogant bastard was nowhere to be found. Sighing a bit morosely, Draco focused on having as much fun as possible.

Toward the end of the night, Blaise swept Draco into a fun little [tango](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onynuHmBUmQ) that they'd practiced just for the hell of it when they were bored. Not to mention, Blaise was an even better dancer than Draco and lamented not having a suitable partner, so it only seemed fair. Judging by the nod of approval that the Headmaster gave them, he thought so too. Draco was more than a little giddy from dancing by this point and even let Blaise lift him so that he could kick his legs out artistically – a maneuver normally performed by the female dance partner.

When they were done with the first dance and a few steps into another, Pansy joined them, insisting that they [tango](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4avQAAItL_M) all together. Which would have miffed Daphne if she hadn't already grown too tired to continue and returned to her dorm. McGonagall gave them a suspicious look, but didn't say anything.

 

***

 

**Fifth Year**

As Draco sat playing the piano in the Slytherin Common Room, he couldn't help but smirk at the memory of that oaf Weasley making a fool of himself during the Gryffindor practices. He frequently dropped the Quaffle, and was almost useless as a keeper. If there was only some way to ensure that he _stayed_ useless, they'd be assured the Quidditch Cup this year.

As he played, he idly hummed a tune. Slowly, the tune and the melody of his playing formed words in his head. He started muttering the song out loud, changing and tweaking the lyrics until they sounded right to him. Suddenly, Theo cried out: “That's _brilliant!_ ”

“What's brilliant?” Draco wondered in confusion.

“That song, it's bound to be effective warfare. Mind games!” Theo crowed with a malicious grin. “Sing it again.”

Now that Draco thought about it, Theo was probably right. He took a breath and prepared to actually sing on purpose in front of his House mates. He played a simple tune so he had something to focus on.

“Weasley cannot save a thing. He cannot block a single ring. That's why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King!

“Weasley was born in a bin. He always lets the Quaffle in. Weasley will make sure we win. Weasley is our King!”

Pansy squealed in delight. “If we sing that during the game, he'll think we're cheering him on! He'll get distracted and have to stop what he's doing to hear what we're saying! _”_

She, Theo, and Blaise joined Draco as he sang the song once more. The tune proved quite catchy and soon the entire House was singing it, despite more than half of them threatening to hex Draco for getting the stupid song stuck in their heads. Draco laughed.

“Too bad I can't play the piano while flying around looking for the Snitch!”

“This is going to make Weasley fall off his broom. Slytherin will win for sure!” Blaise exclaimed gleefully.

“Do you think I should make badges to go with the song?” Draco wondered.

“Great idea!” Theo cheered. “All the better to intimidate him with!”

Draco pulled out one of his sketch pads and drew up a few designs.

“Oh, I like that crown shaped one,” Pansy remarked, pointing to said design.

“Yeah, it goes with the song,” Blaise added.

“Alright,” Draco agreed. “This shouldn't take me long. I think I'll make them silver, to go along with our uniforms.”

“Make them nice enough that we can change the words later on if we want and just wear them as fashionable accessories,” Pansy suggested.

“Ooo... a crown broach _would_ be nice if I ever need to wear dress robes again,” Daphne agreed from across the room.

“And silver goes well with just about anything,” Blaise pointed out.

Draco barely heard them. “Uh-huh.” He was so focused on his task that he even had his tongue sticking out ever so slightly in concentration. He duplicated a silver cloak pin, and then transfigured the pin into a crown shape – wiggling his wand back and forth until the crown looked just so. Then he cast a delicately precise cutting hex on the crown to engrave it – not only with the words _Weasley is our King_ but also a decorative edging and a royal looking cross at the top.

“How's that?” Draco asked, showing the crown to everyone who wanted a look.

“I like it,” Pansy stated.

“Me too,” Blaise agreed. Most of the others nodded to indicate they liked it as well.

“I'd wear it,” Montague stated with a shrug. As their new Captain, his acceptance was important. He glared around the room. “And I want the rest of the team to wear it too!”

Smirking rather smugly, Draco set about duplicating the badge as many times as it took to have enough for everyone.

 

***

 

_He hit me! Potter frickin' hit me! Oh sure, I probably shouldn't have insulted his mum, but still!_

He had been so furious that Gryffindor had won despite Draco's plan working – and very well at that – that his mouth had run off with him. Even so, he was pretty sure he hadn't said anything that wasn't true. Some people just couldn't handle hearing the unpleasant facts of life.

 

***

 

Draco was working himself into a fine strop as he led Vince and Greg toward the entrance hall. Somehow buggering Harry sodding Potter had led his father on a merry chase through the bowels of the Ministry, which led to his father being arrested and sent to Azkaban. It didn't matter to him _what_ the circumstances were. It didn't matter if his father was actually in the wrong, no Malfoy should _ever_ have to suffer something as ignoble as prison.

Suddenly, he spotted Potter and looked around to see if there were any witnesses. Finding no one, he softly growled: “You're dead, Potter.”

Potter raised his eyebrows. “Funny, you'd think I'd have stopped walking around.”

If Draco hadn't been so angry, he might have found that smart arse remark funny. As it was, he was so filled with rage that he could probably cast an Avada Kedavra if he wanted. He could barely speak!

In a near whisper because it was all he could manage at the moment, Draco said: “You're going to pay. _I'm_ going to make you pay for what you've done to my father...”

“Well, I'm terrified now,” Potter muttered sarcastically. “I s’pose Lord Voldemort’s just a warm-up act compared to you three — what’s the matter?” he asked, because Draco, Vince, and Greg had all flinched slightly at the sound of the name. “He’s your dad’s mate, isn’t he? Not scared of him, are you?”

“You think you’re such a big man, Potter,” Draco sneered, taking a step closer to Potter with Vince and Greg flanking him. “You wait. I’ll have you. You can’t land my father in prison —”

“I thought I just had,” Potter replied snarkily.

“The dementors have left Azkaban,” Draco reminded him quietly. “Dad and the others’ll be out in no time. . . .”

“Yeah, I expect they will,” said Potter, sounding almost weary. “Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now —”

Draco’s hand flew toward his wand, but Potter was too quick for him. He must have been waiting for this because he'd drawn his own wand before Draco’s fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes.

“Potter!” The voice rang across the entrance hall; Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office, and at the sight of him, Draco couldn't help but feel annoyed and more than a little frustrated at being interrupted before getting at least a little satisfying revenge.

“What are you doing, Potter?” Snape asked as coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them.

“I’m trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir,” Potter stated with a fiercely defiant expression.

Snape stared at him in something close to astonishment for a moment. “Put that wand away at once,” he said curtly. “Ten points from Gryff —” Snape looked toward the giant hourglasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile. “Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to —”

“Add some more?” Professor McGonagall had just srode up the stone steps into the castle. She was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.

“Professor McGonagall!” Snape exclaimed, striding forward with an almost relieved look on his face. “Out of St. Mungo’s, I see!”

“Yes, Professor Snape,” Professor McGonagall stated a bit acerbically, shrugging off her traveling cloak. “I’m quite as good as new. You two — Crabbe — Goyle —” She beckoned them forward imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward. “Here,” said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Vince’s chest and her cloak into Greg’s. “Take these up to my office for me.”

They turned and clambered away up the marble staircase.

“Right then,” said Professor McGonagall, looking up at the hourglasses on the wall. “Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?”

“What?” Snape snapped, though Draco suspected that he had heard perfectly well. “Oh — well — I suppose . . .”

“So that’s fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom, and Miss Granger,” said Professor McGonagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor’s hourglass as she spoke. “Oh — and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose,” she added, and a number of sapphires fell into Ravenclaw’s glass. “Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape — so there we are. . . .”

A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.

“Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this,” Professor McGonagall continued briskly.

Draco watched in frustration as Potter beat a hasty retreat. If he didn't have two Professors watching him, he'd go after the bastard and finish their fight. As it was, he had no choice but to stew in his rage.

 

***

 

Draco and his friends were met at King's Cross Station by Muffy, who – as part of the magic that allowed her to serve her master – was able to recognize them despite resembling oozing, slimy, slugs and fix them up good as new in seconds. Still seething in general and feeling thwarted in specific, Draco took a moment to calm down before he spoke to his elf. As he did, his friends hastily ran off to their own parents.

“Where's my mother?”

“Mistress Narcissa is meeting with men from the most prestigious law firm to discuss your father,” Muffy informed him.

Draco hesitated for a moment because he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to this question. “And, er... is there anyone else in the Manor?”

Muffy looked around to be sure that no one else was on the train anymore. “No. Mistress Bellatrix and... _Him_... are both gone doing... something... They did not tell Muffy what.”

Draco exhaled in relief and nodded. “Good. That means I'll have the house to myself.”

“Muffy will Apparate Master home now. I already sent your trunk on ahead.”

“Good.” Draco said as he held his hand out for her so that she could bring him home.

The second they were in the Manor, Draco growled: “I'm going to go change. I want all the elves to be ready to go to the ballroom when I'm done.”

“Yes Master,” Muffy replied with an overly patient smile.

Draco ran to his room, threw off his school robes, stripped off everything else, and then pulled on something that would be comfortable while dancing. A basic pair of trousers and an airy button up shirt. Ironically, even this made him look like he could fit in at a semi formal dinner, especially if he put on a casual suit jacket – but that would completely deter from the point, which was to remain cool and comfortable.

It took maybe another ten minutes to check his appearance in his vanity mirror and refresh the very subtle hint of makeup he wore. Honestly, he had to wonder why more men and boys didn't wear makeup since – when applied right – it simply evened out skin tone and enhanced how handsome he looked. Not to mention made his eyes look amazing! He had to wonder how amazing an already vibrant pair of green eyes would look with just a hint –

Draco caught himself and nipped that thought in the bud before it could go any further.

Now ready to dance until he stopped thinking about anything at all, Draco jogged to the ballroom and called for Muffy. In less than five minutes, Draco felt surprisingly better. He had already taught the elves the dance he wanted them to do, and now led them through the lyrics.

“Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone, I hear you call my name, and it feels like home... When you call my name, it's like a little prayer, I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there. In the midnight hour, I can feel your power, just [like a prayer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79fzeNUqQbQ), you know I'll take you there.”

Each time Draco repeated the song and dance – refining the choreography as he went – he felt just a little bit better. This gave him something else to think about – thus taking his mind off his problems. After the sixth or seventh repetition, he decided that he should probably switch to a different song, just in case someone came home after all.

"I think of you every night and day, you took my heart and you took my pride aw~~~~~ay. [I hate myself for loving you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjrWw0h1qeo), can't break free from the things that you do. I want to walk but I run back to you, that's why I hate myself for loving you!”

Sure enough, after only three repetitions of this song, Draco was startled by a highly amused cackle. “How precious!” Bellatrix cried out with glee. “My little nephew is singing about love and dancing as if he was in the most popular wizarding club.”

Biting back a gasp of dismay that the Dark Lord was standing next to his aunt, Draco bowed to her. He wasn't quite able to stop himself from blushing and fervently wanted to change the subject. “I can change the music to something better, if you'd like.” He held out his hand in an invitation to dance.

To his surprise, his Lord looked interested. “Teach him that dance I like.”

“The tango?” Bellatrix asked with a tone that sounded as if she was certain she was right. With a sharp gesture, she dismissed the elves.

“Yes.”

“I know how to tango,” Draco murmured with a slight frown.

“Good, then you'll be able to follow along,” Bellatrix stated with an intense look. She took a step closer to Draco but stopped when the Dark Lord whipped out his wand and pointed it at her.

Without a word, he transfigured her black and rather Gothic dress into an extremely sheer red dress that left nothing to the imagination. It was light and airy and so wispy that Draco wondered if it could float all on its own. He also had a feeling that Pansy would just _love_ this dress. Although, he couldn't quite see the point of even wearing the dress since it hid nothing. To go with it were dangerously high heeled shoes in a matching shade of red.

Bellatrix led Draco through the steps to her version of [the dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3vsiiRK5GU). From the very first second, Draco realized that she wanted to put on a show for their Lord by practically molesting him. More importantly, their Lord seemed to want this as well, encouraging them with nods whenever Draco complied. He had to take a deep breath and push the fact that she was his aunt to the back of his head – and basically pretend she was Pansy – in order to somewhat molest her in return. Even more disturbing was all the many times she insisted they get _this buggering close_ to kissing.

After going through the steps twice, Draco ordered the instruments to play the right music for them to dance to. They danced it almost perfectly, considering that they'd only practiced it a couple of times. Every time they made eye contact, she tried to slip into his mind, forcing him to maintain strong Occlumency shields. Perhaps ironically, this helped him put quite a bit of focus (and thus the _mood_ they were looking for) into the dance. Honestly, he was rather surprised that _she_ was _able_ to do the lifts and even more difficult tricks, considering her age and the many years she wouldn't have been able to dance at all.

When the dance was done, Draco was more than half certain that their Lord would ask them to start over, but he was wrong. He inclined his head at Bellatrix and said: “Now show him the other.”

Without a word, Bellatrix pulled Draco close so that they were pressed chest to breast and their legs were between each other's. [This dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb0yBxJdrDU) wasn't very complicated. It was basically undulating and grinding together – with quick steps – in a way that confused Draco for so many reasons. He was fairly tall at just barely 16, and she was normally the same height as him, but she was currently wearing shoes that made her taller than him. Thus, when she pulled his head into her neck, he got a much better view of her cleavage than he really wanted.

At one point, she shifted his hands to the small of her back and really ground into him. The Dark Lord made a sound of obvious appreciation. A second later, a gasp startled them all.

“ _Bella!!!_ _What are you doing to my son?!?!_ ”

“Just dancing,” Bellatrix replied, somehow managing to _not_ look guilty. Meanwhile, Draco felt almost as mortified as he would if his mother walked in on him shagging someone. Not that he had yet. He'd confined his playing to lesser things so far, but he didn't want his mother to walk in on any of those either.

No longer in the mood to dance, Draco excused himself and went to his room where he stayed for the rest of the night. At some point – after he'd fallen asleep – Bellatrix came into his room and insisted that she had to obtain a specific memory for the Dark Lord to watch in his Pensieve. In his sleep fogged state, he didn't have it in him to tell her no.

 

***

 

**Sixth Year**

Draco suppressed a morose sigh. He had been marked and given a task by the Dark Lord. A task he was expected to fail but that his Lord planned to watch him struggle with first – like a cat playing with his food. If by some miracle he succeeded, he would be rewarded, but if he failed as expected, his death would be a long and drawn out event that would not only punish his father for failing, but would also drive the point home to the rest of the Death Eaters that failure _was not_ an option.

So now, he was on his way back to school with an impossible mission and no real idea how to accomplish it yet. He had the beginning of a workable plan, but that's all it was so far. He lay with his head in Pansy's lap, letting her card her fingers through his hair. At one point, he thought he saw something move above Greg, and then later on, he heard a gasp of pain that seemed to come from thin air.

There was an explanation for these events that filled Draco with a sort of vengeful happiness. He might _finally_ have a chance to get back at Potter. Thank his lucky constellation that Potter seemed to be too stupid for his own good. Imagine, trying to spy on them with nothing more than his invisibility cloak for protection. No lackeys anywhere...

He sent all his friends off, even Pansy. Once alone, he shut the blinds and pretended to be looking at something in his trunk. Without any sort of warning, he cast a Petrificus Totalus on the spot he suspected Potter was. Sure enough, the arrogant arse fell to the floor.

“I thought so,” Draco said jubilantly, filled with the closest thing to happiness he'd felt in a long time. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back. . . .”

He took a moment to let Potter think about the fact that he was alone and helpless. Then he continued, in a deceptively mild tone of voice. “You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here . . .”

Still nearly ready to sing from the sweet feeling of punishing Potter at last, Draco stomped on the Boy Who Lived's nose hard enough to make blood gush everywhere. Triumphant, he informed Potter that: “That's from my father. Now let's see...”

He yanked the cloak out from under Potter and gave a split second's thought to keeping it. But no. It would be far more useful if he draped it over Potter's helpless body. Besides, Malfoys had no need to steal.

“I don’t reckon they’ll find you 'til the train’s back in London. See you around, Potter . . . or not.” And taking care to tread on Potter’s fingers, Draco left the train.

 

***

 

Months passed. Draco tried a couple of different things to accomplish his goal, which was to kill Dumbledore for the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, his plans all failed so far, which meant that he had no choice but to fix up that infernal vanishing cabinet. He was growing more and more desperate, and not even taking advantage of both Pansy and Blaise's willingness to relieve his stress helped.

Blaise frowned at him in thought after the first time it had happened. “I thought you were saving yourself for someone special. Or at least a time when it had the most strategic value.”

Draco shrugged. “I was, but I lost my virginity during the summer before I fully realized what was happening, so, why not have a little fun while I can?”

“What happened?” Blaise wondered, now frowning in concern.

“I don't want to talk about that,” Draco stated dismissively. “I'd much rather – if you're not exhausted enough to sleep yet – I'd much rather we start over and keep going until we either pass out or die.”

Blaise harrumphed in amusement. “That sounds fun to me.”

 

Now it was the middle of March and Draco was so stressed out that he rarely ate and had trouble sleeping, he had no time for anything. He fervently prayed that he would finally be able to fix that mother buggering cabinet while everyone else was out watching the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game. With this in mind, he led Vince and Greg – Polyjuiced as girls – toward the Room of Hidden Things.

Suddenly, he realized that Potter was walking toward him, obviously on his way toward the exit of the castle. He was – after all – due on the Quidditch pitch at any moment. Draco felt a humorless laugh escape him as he realized that it was just his luck to run into Potter of all people while sneaking around in an otherwise deserted castle.

“Where're you going?” Potter demanded in a tone that was not only curious, but almost sounded like a jealous lover who suspected Draco of cheating on him.

“Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Potter,” Draco sneered, tempted to roll his eyes for good measure. “You’d better hurry up, they’ll be waiting for ‘the Chosen Captain’ — ‘the Boy Who Scored’ — whatever they call you these days.”

Greg giggled, and since he was a girl, blushed that he'd called attention to himself. Draco took advantage of Potter's silence and pushed past him, leading his friends onward with the near certainty that Potter wouldn't dare follow them and miss his match.

However, even once he was in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco had no luck. Despite trying everything he'd researched since his last try, nothing worked. Not completely. He had success sending things to the other cabinet, they just died or aged a hundred years before they arrived.

Feeling perilously close to crying from frustration, Draco nearly gave in to the urge to push the Merlin cursed cabinet over. Watching it shatter would be oh so satisfying. For about 30 seconds, until the horror of what he'd done set in.

Deciding that he needed to take a break, he explored the room until he found an area in the far left corner that was set up like somebody used to hide in here and study. There was a cushy sofa, a few shelves of books – all featuring forbidden magic and dark spells that Draco found fascinating – and a table long enough to write several feet worth of reports. There was also several lamps to provide excellent lighting to read and write by.

Draco honestly had to wonder what else was hidden in this room. A bit of searching nearby uncovered a vanity that took turns insulting and complimenting him. There was also a very pretty and scanty dress that looked like a student (who moonlighted as a Victorian prostitute?) had stripped off hastily. An old fashioned pair of men's drawers made Draco certain that this had been the result of an illicit rendezvous. The students must have decided that getting fully dressed afterwards would take too much time, and simply worn their school robes out of the room. Draco picked up the dress and carried it over to the vanity.

Suddenly, an absolutely _gorgeous_ piano caught his eye. _Why_ would anyone feel the need to hide such a beautiful instrument? Draco played whatever came to mind for probably an hour before he realized that he was playing the music to one of his favorite songs. It was yet another one that he would _die_ before admitting that he'd ever even heard it before. Not even Pansy knew how much he loved – well, all of these songs, really. Even if she loved them too – and was the reason Draco knew them all by heart – he just couldn't admit to her that the songs he'd degraded as annoying were actually his absolute favorite.

With that in mind, he charmed the piano to play the music all on its own on an infinite loop. As it did, he went back to the vanity, ignored the cutting insults as he did his makeup, and then went so far as to dress up in the dress. After all, the point was to get out of his head for a while, right? So what better way than to pretend to be someone else for an hour or so?

When ready, and looking disturbingly adorable considering how he was dressed, Draco cleared a large area by shoving the study table off to the side. This gave him a well lit stage of sorts, which was cushioned by a beautiful and expensive antique rug. When the music was just right, Draco sang along, not quite dancing yet, but swaying.

“[Papa don't preach](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G333Is7VPOg), I'm in trouble deep, papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep. Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep, papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep. Oh, I'm gonna keep my baby, ooo. Don't you stop loving me, daddy, I know, I'm keeping my baby.”

Even though Draco thought he liked the song because it was basically a big up yours to a demanding father, the song made him think of someone else too. Someone he really didn't want to be thinking about.

Deciding to change to a different song, Draco taught the piano to play a different one of his favorites. One with a tune that made him want to dance.

“Tropical the island breeze, all of nature wild and free, this is where I long to be, [la isla bonita](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqIIW7nxBgc). And when the samba played, the sun would set so high, ring through my ears and sting my eyes, your Spanish lullaby. …

“I want to be where the sun warms the sky, when it's time for siesta you can watch them go by, beautiful faces, no cares in this world, where a girl loves a boy, and a bo~~~y, loves a boy –”

Draco broke off with a gasp of astonishment and slapped a hand over his mouth. He shook his head and looked around the room as if afraid that someone had snuck in to listen to him sing. Seeing no one, as expected, did _not_ reassure him.

“ _No_..... no no no no no!” He exhaled in a low moan. “That is _not possible_...” He shook his head over and over until the sense of panic receded a little. Then he stripped off the dress, glamoured his face to hide the makeup he gone a little overboard on (he _was_ dressing up, after all), pulled his school robes on, grabbed his belongings, and fled the room.

 

***

 

When Potter caught Draco crying in the sixth floor boys' bathroom, he was so mortified that he wished that he would just die. Honestly, it was the only way out of the mess he'd landed himself in. However, since that wasn't likely, Draco tried to hex the sodding Chosen One. Their battle escalated very quickly, and since he was already firmly set on the path to hell, he decided he had no choice but to play the hand he was dealt until the bitter end.

“Cruci –”

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” Potter cried out, and with a strange floating sensation, Draco realized that he might just get his wish after all.

No sound escaped Draco. He wasn't quite sure if he felt pain, but he knew he definitely couldn't breathe. His hands clawed at his chest without him thinking about it. It was as if they were searching for air, or maybe demanding his lungs to start working again. His body started to shake uncontrollably from shock.

All he could think about was how nice it would be to die. To let go and just not have to worry about anything ever again. Sure, his mother would miss him, and might even be punished for his failure, but she didn't interest the Dark Lord like his father did, so she would probably just be left alone and ignored.

Feeling something very close to peace, Draco watched Potter stare at him with wide eyes and wondered why those vibrant green orbs looked so horrified. Wouldn't his death work in Potter's favor? Hell! Potter didn't know it, but Draco was doing his best to let Death Eaters into the school and murder the Headmaster, so really, Potter had just saved everyone without even trying or intending to. It was just the bastard's luck, really.

Suddenly, Snape was kneeling next to him and singing something softly that took away the pain he was feeling after all. It returned his ability to breathe. It made him feel... depressed actually. Not only was he failing in his mission, but he had to live to suffer and keep trying.

His last glimpse of Potter before being carried off to the hospital wing, was of a pale and shaky boy who looked utterly gutted by what he'd done. Buried very deeply in the back of his mind – so deeply that he was confident that not even Snape could read it if he tried – Draco allowed himself the fantasy that Harry looked so distraught because the thought of hurting him was as horrifying as hurting someone he cared about. Draco wanted to pretend for a few minutes that Potter not only cared about him, but maybe even loved him in return.

But then he shoved that into a mental box and locked it with a hundred padlocks. It wouldn't do to be lovesick over a boy who had _just_ nearly murdered him. Although, if Draco was fated to die anyway, he sincerely wished that it was by Potter's hand than by the Dark Lord's.

 

***

 

Draco was numb. He honestly didn't know how to feel. Tonight, he...

Had succeeded.

At least, well enough that the Dark Lord no longer wanted to murder him. Better yet, Snape had claimed that he'd burst upon the scene and performed the deed before Draco fully had a chance to do it himself. That Snape had startled Draco just when he was about to do it. None of the others who had been there wanted to contradict their Lord when he was in such an excellent mood, and so Draco was hailed as a Hero for doing what he did; letting the Death Eaters into the school to witness the death of Dumbledore. It was a major win for their side.

As soon as he could, Draco locked himself in his room with every protective ward he could think of to keep the Death Eaters out when they got bored. He also didn't want a repeat of his aunt letting herself into his room in a quest for more voyeuristic material for their Lord's pleasure. Although, he suspected that she'd find a way in if He ordered her to.

In any case, Draco planned to never leave his room again – aside from when the Dark Lord summoned him or required his presence. He also didn't feel like doing anything at all. Not singing or dancing. Not sleeping, eating, or breathing. He gave serious thought to casting cutting hexes all over his body. Being threatened with death had made him so very afraid for his life, and yet – perhaps ironically – nearly dying had made him realize that death could be a friend.

However, his mother might have sensed this because she sent his elf to him at least once a day with little notes that didn't really mean anything, but reminded him that he had something to live for after all. One read:

_Darling, I'm sorry that you didn't feel well enough to join us for breakfast this morning. I was thinking of shopping later today; would you like to join me? If not, perhaps tomorrow? I hope you feel better soon, love, mum_

Slowly, these notes made Draco feel better. When he read this note: _Good news, my love, our Lord has taken over the Ministry and it's been decreed that all children must attend school – which means you'll be going back for your Seventh Year after all. I hope this news will make you feel better at last. Love, mum_ Draco actually did feel better. He knew that he'd have to do the Dark Lord's bidding, but it was bound to be _loads_ better than staying here in a house that – while normally enormous – currently felt stiflingly small.

Confident that he wouldn't be disturbed in his well-warded room, Draco sat at his piano and played a slow song. “I have a tale to tell. Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well. I was not ready for the fall. Too blind to see the writing on the wall. A man can tell a thousand lies, I've learned my lesson well, hope I [live to tell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzAO9A9GjgI) the secret I have learned, 'til then it will burn inside of me...”

He loved this song – well, he loved _all_ her songs – but this one was one of the few that was meant to be sad. And yet... hopeful...

“If I ran away, I'd never have the strength, to go very far. How would they hea~~~r the beating of my heart? Will it grow cold? The secret that I hide; will I grow old? How will they hea~r? When will they learn? How will they kno~~~~~w?”

Feeling a little better, Draco was suddenly in the mood to dance. He debated having Muffy bring him all the instruments, but then decided that his mother would be happy to see him again. Sure enough, when she saw him enter the parlor where she and Bellatrix were having lunch, her eyes lit up like stars.

“Draco!”

“Good afternoon, mother. Would you care to dance with me?” He asked with a gallant bow.

“Of course. _After_ you eat something. You're _far_ too thin!”

Realizing that he was a little hungry after all, Draco nodded and took a seat. After devouring a small slab of medium rare prime rib, they adjourned to the ballroom, where Draco led his mother in a sedate yet playful waltz. Bellatrix insisted on a turn too, but even she kept the steps well within the realm of propriety.

Perhaps best of all was when the Dark Lord returned later on with his father. With _Him_ in control of the Ministry, there was no one to stop Him from releasing any prisoners he wanted, which was more or less all of them.

Feeling better than he had since... What? Fourth Year? Draco hugged his father tight, only stopping because his mother insisted on taking a turn. For this moment at least, life was not so bad after all.

 

***

 

**Seventh Year**

_Why oh why did Headmaster Snape tolerate this_? Draco thought as he stared in disbelief at Amycus Carrow teaching the students to perform the Cruciatus Curse on each other. Most of them – even the Slytherins – didn't hate anything badly enough to use the curse. Only Draco could perform it on command, and that was only because he'd learned long ago how to shove all of his more tender and compassionate feelings in a box and amplify the merciless ones. It was a bit like he let his mind go blank so that his body could do as it was told.

Any Slytherin or pureblood who was able to cast the curse – and didn't object – was placed in charge of disciplining all the other students. _Especially_ the ones that rebelled. As time passed, the rebellion grew quite heated, with Neville Longbottom – of all people – turning into quite the Hero and leader in Potter's absence. If Draco was willing to be honest with himself, he had a mild crush on the boy who used to be fat and ugly but was now looking rather hot and fit. He'd shag Longbottom dirty rotten if given half a chance.

But since that was out of the question, Draco – and all the older Slytherins – decided that shagging was the best way to unwind from their stressful days. Almost none of them actually _wanted_ to be semi-professional torturers. They did so because they were told to, and in order to cope, they sent the younger kids to bed at exactly nine each night so that they could get mildly drunk and play around.

However, before the playing started, Draco often persuaded Pansy and Blaise – and occasionally other girls such as Daphne and Astoria – to dance with him. Every once in a while, he'd get so caught up in dancing with Astoria that he never joined in on the playing. They talked about all sorts of things, and Draco realized that she was a sweet girl who embodied all the best parts of being a pureblood while still having an open mind and – perhaps ironically – a caring heart. She dared to confess to Draco that watching her fellow students be tortured made her so sick that she often had to go to the bathroom and vomit.

Draco once confessed that he felt much the same. Neither ever told a soul, keeping these confessions an absolute secret. At some point, he decided that since it was highly unlikely that he'd ever get to actually be with the one he secretly (very secretly, since he had locked that information up way down deep inside) loved, well, Astoria would make a lovely bride. The two of them could comfort and support each other no matter what the Dark Lord asked of them.

Specifically Draco. The Dark Lord seemed to feel that Death Eaters should be men – that a woman's place was at home raising future Death Eaters. He _didn't_ turn women away if they wanted to serve him, he just didn't force them to. Which was strangely noble of him, although Draco was dead certain that being noble was _not_ what motivated the Dark Lord in this matter.

The thing that shocked Draco most of all was... that he no longer liked being a bully. In fact, in all his years at Hogwarts, he couldn't recall actually bullying anyone other than Potter – or those close to Potter. Sure, he made snide remarks about almost everyone at some point or other, but actually putting effort into making a person miserable? Only Potter and his friends. Which were probably just another way to get at Potter, and so nothing more than collateral damage, so to speak.

Huh... and didn't that just speak volumes?

With no arrogant bastard to bully, Draco grew so bored that he sometimes didn't even talk to anyone all day, except when he had to. The year seemed to drag on _forever_ , and he was unbelievably glad that it was his last year. He didn't give a rat's arse how many NEWTs he got, he was leaving this school when he graduated and never looking back.

Eventually, Easter Hols arrived. For the most part, the Dark Lord was off doing his own thing, which meant that it was fairly relaxing at the Manor. The only thing that disturbed the peace was that Bellatrix – who was eight months pregnant but didn't look it _at all_ – kept complaining that the child inside her kicked her so hard that it knocked her breath out. Also, the kicks came so frequently that she sometimes felt certain that she had an entire Quidditch team in there.

Draco ignored her, extremely grateful that she had conceived _before_ the second time she had slipped into his room – the night before he returned to Hogwarts for his Seventh year. _Please oh please let her be telling the truth about that!!!_ She insisted that the child belonged to their Lord, and for his peace of mind, Draco believed her.

Draco was still dwelling on his unpleasant speculation of the child's potential looks – would the child have a nose? The Dark Lord was currently bald, but rumor had it that he used to have black hair. Thus the child would _have_ to have black hair like his or her parents. But what if it was born with platinum blond hair? Salazar's crooked prick! If he had to explain exactly how her sister's child had Malfoy features to his mother, would she be mad at him? Or would she actually be upset with her sister? What if his mother was actually secretly happy that this child might be his (provided that Bellatrix had ever told her that it was possible), because it would mean a continuation of _her_ family line. Draco could always provide an Heir to the Malfoy line later on, but Bellatrix obviously didn't care about the Lestrange line, so...

Anyway, Draco was still dwelling on these alarming thoughts when snatchers arrived and his mother rushed to let them in. While she was out of the room, it was just him and his father.

Lucius leaned over, his time in Azkaban having changed him just a little. He was now almost apologetic whenever he looked at or spoke to Draco. Such as now.

“Son... is there something bothering you? I can almost _feel_ your thoughts whirling around in your head.”

Draco took a deep breath, and then shook his head. “Nothing I can tell you.”

Lucius looked as if Draco had just cast a cutting hex to his heart. “You can tell me anything.”

“Not unless I want the Dark Lord to murder me,” Draco grumbled with a shrug.

“Oh. I see,” Lucius murmured. He completely understood keeping their Lord's secrets. Even so, he was sad that his son couldn't confide in him.

Draco scrutinized his father for a long moment before sighing rather heavily. He was suddenly certain that his father would willingly die before he betrayed Draco's trust. Looking around, he cast a charm to ensure that no one overheard them.

“Let's just say that I'm terrified that Bellatrix will have a baby with platinum blond hair and gray eyes,” he murmured, not quite able to meet his father's eyes.

Lucius frowned in confusion. “I swear I haven't touched her! Why would you think – oh! _Oh_..... Well..... That's... problematic.”

Draco snorted. “Quite.”

“But... why?” Lucius wondered, now frowning in concern.

Draco sighed and shook his head with his hands and arms forming a vague W shape. “Our Lord ordered her to obtain a certain memory involving me for his viewing pleasure. I assure you that there's not a torrid secret love affair between us.”

“Are you... alright?” Lucius asked, looking in the direction he was sure his sister in law was hopefully taking a nap.

Draco shrugged. “Well, it wasn't horrible or painful – or anything like that – just... repulsive to think about. I had to close my eyes and pretend that she was someone else.”

Lucius chuckled at that. “I can imagine. She was once quite a looker, and I can sometimes see the beauty she once was, but the thought of shagging her is...” he shook his head. “I can't even imagine how the Dark Lord does it. Then again, I can't imagine anyone wanting to shag him either, so...”

Draco laughed at that, but then his temporary good mood fell when his mother returned and...

 _Bloody buggering fucking hell!_ Draco silently ranted when he recognized Granger and Weasley standing next to someone who was almost certainly Potter. He did his best to keep all expression off his face but couldn't stop his heart from racing all of a sudden. Potter looked distressingly abused! His signature wild hair was so long that it hung limp and lifeless from his head. His face was puffy and distorted, as if someone had used him as a punching bag for an hour. He was a little taller than Draco remembered, but so scrawny that he was almost certainly malnourished.

Draco couldn't decide if he wanted to hug Potter and feed him a 13 course meal, or wring his neck for getting his fool arse caught.

His father suddenly caught his attention again. “Well Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

Draco suddenly knew exactly what it felt like to prefer death to betraying a loved one, which was something he _could not_ let anyone realize. Edging away from Greyback the nasty werewolf, he avoided looking directly at Potter. “I can't – I can't be sure.” There, that wasn't an outright lie, and Draco could always claim that he felt that even the slightest doubt was not worth risking the Dark Lord's wrath if he was wrong.

But his father would not be dissuaded so easily. “But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!”

Draco was able to do nothing as his father got distracted by Greyback, but a minute or so later, Lucius was demanding again that: “Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?”

Forced to walk over to Potter, Draco got a good look at him. He knew for certain that his father wanted so very much to hand Potter over to their Lord and earn back his rightful place in the inner circle, and he felt guilty for betraying his father like this, but nearly all of Draco was afraid that Potter would not only be killed by the Dark Lord, but that all hope for a better future would be lost with him. Without the slim hope that this ragged and likely incompetent boy might actually defeat the Dark Lord some day, well...

Draco didn't really want to think what his life and that of his parents would be like if their side won the war.

“I don't know,” he murmured, his blood practically singing from joy at simply being so close to the one who had managed to steal his heart at some point when Draco wasn't looking. He quickly walked over to his mother before anything he _could not_ let anyone see crossed his face.

Narcissa was staring at the wand in her hand and clearly felt that her son had a reason to have doubts. “We had better be certain, Lucius. Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord . . . They say this is his, but it does not resemble Ollivander’s description. . . . If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing . . . Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?”

Draco suppressed a shudder at the memory. _He_ had been required to torture them with the Cruciatus Curse for so long that he was honestly surprised they didn't go mad. They had survived, but now Draco feared that they'd come after him the first moment he displeased their Lord.

Reluctantly, Draco was forced to confirm the identities of Granger and Weasley. Then his aunt entered the room and all hell broke loose – in Draco's opinion. She was excited at first and nearly called for their Lord, but then she spotted a sword and completely freaked out. This led to most of the prisoners being brought to the dungeon while Granger was tortured by his aunt.

Draco tried to look away. He didn't _want_ to watch the pain and suffering, but her screams kept drawing his attention. Strangely, his reluctance and aversion wasn't all because he was just so tired of this sort of thing by now; a large part of him hurt because he knew that Potter was currently in the dungeon suffering because his best friend was being tortured.

At some point, his aunt incapacitated most of the snatchers because they were annoying her. She ordered Draco to take them outside and either finish them off or leave them for her to take care of. Draco levitated them out of the Manor and decided to transfigure them into rocks. He was willing to bet that his aunt would forget about them, and if she didn't he could claim that he thought this would prevent them from waking up and escaping. If she _did_ forget about them, he could change them back and let them go when no one was looking.

Almost the moment he returned, having lingered a little to hopefully avoid most of the torture, his father ordered him to go down to the dungeon and fetch the goblin. A good half of him wondered if he could get away with letting them all go and claiming that they overpowered him. Honestly, Potter and Weasley were probably lying in wait to ambush him. But he had to do as he was told.

With a shaky voice, that was caused by so many conflicting emotions – such as a desire to help them and the need to stay on the Dark Lord's good side – Draco ordered them all to get back or be killed. He waited until he heard the shuffling stop, and then yanked open the door. With his wand held in front of him, he marched forward into the darkness and grabbed the goblin. He felt a moment of surprise when Potter _did not_ jump on him.

Seriously, wand or not, Draco wasn't exactly skilled enough to fight off all of them at once. If Potter jumped on him (and perhaps groped him in the process), Weasley could get him in a choke hold, Dean Thomas could punch him out, and Luna could take his wand from him. But no, they obeyed him. _Shockingly_.

Time passed strangely for Draco. The torture seemed to drag on and on, but thankfully, the goblin made very little noise and Granger had passed out. Draco barely noticed when he was sent to order Wormtail to go check on the prisoners, but a few minutes later, Weasley and Potter came roaring into the room. Potter stupefied Draco's father, and Draco needed to appear to retaliate. Nonverbally, he cast a tickling hex at Potter, who dove to the floor to avoid that and the other – likely painful – hexes being cast at him. His aunt regained the upper hand and ordered him to confiscate the pilfered wands and hold on to them. This meant he had two more than usual.

Just when it seemed like their side was definitely going to win, a loud crash startled them. Not to mention, crystal shards sliced up his face, hands, and anywhere else they hit. Draco bent over, partially to protect himself from further harm and partially to assess the damage to his face. Potter took advantage of his distraction by snatching the wands out of his hand and promptly stunning Greyback. Draco was secretly impressed that he had the power to do so, not that he'd ever admit it.

After a bit of pointless shouting between the free elf, his mother, and his aunt, Potter called out to Weasley an order to leave. At the same time, he grabbed the goblin and Dobby. As Potter spun to leave, Draco met his eyes for the briefest of seconds. It was all Draco could do to _not_ shout in glee that Potter was escaping. He fervently prayed that the sodding hero really was the Chosen One fated to save them all.

To his relief – and deep concern – the Dark Lord had enough adults (though he _was_ technically of age) to blame for the fiasco that Draco remained relatively safe. Plus, he did a good enough job proving himself to the Carrows at Hogwarts that he was given leniency. It was his father and aunt that their Lord was angriest at.

Thus, Draco was able to lock himself in his room until it was time to return to school. At this rate, he might need to find someplace else to stay after graduation until the war was over. With a sigh, he realized that the Dark Lord probably wouldn't _let_ him live anywhere else. This mark on his arm made him no better than a slave. He didn't even have the heart to sing, dance, or play his piano.

 

***

 

Draco felt a little like an Inferius over the next few weeks. May was approaching, and with it, only a month and a half or so until his NEWTs _and_ the end of school for him forever. He didn't know whether to pray for it to happen quickly, or for time to stop so that he didn't have to return home to a man who was quite clearly insane.

His only highlight was that on the last day of April, his father sent him a note that read: _I have seen the child and she has black hair and eyes. I beg you to put her from your mind and never think of her again._ Extremely relieved, Draco used his Occlumency skills to gather up all knowledge of his aunt's child and lock it away. Unless forced to, he honestly never would think of her again. Much later on, when his mother confessed to having the girl sent to be cared for by a woman eager for the money, he and his father both Obliviated her from their memory as she was otherwise an unpleasant reminder of their Lord.

 

***

 

On May second, Potter returned to school. Draco was in his Common Room talking with with Pansy and Blaise with Astoria sitting on his lap. Pansy was sitting on Blaise's lap and looked a little upset at Astoria even though Draco had made it clear near the beginning of the Year that he wasn't interested in Pansy like that. Suddenly, Slughorn burst into the Common Room and insisted that all students report to the Great Hall.

From the Great Hall, a while later, anyone underage and all of Slytherin House was evacuated. When Draco realized that the escape route was through the Room of Hidden Things – only in a different form – he mentioned to Vince and Greg that Potter was almost certainly going come this way at some point. After all, this seemed to be their base of operations at the moment – the same as they had used the Room in Fifth Year to rebel against Umbridge.

For a moment, he let himself remember how much he'd actually admired Potter for never shutting up despite all the times Umbridge bullied and tortured him. Rumor had it that Potter had a permanent scar on his hand that said something like: I should not tell lies. The real irony was that Potter _hadn't_ been lying and Draco knew it, not that he could have said as much at the time.

“We should do that invisible charm thing and catch him off guard,” Vince suggested with a dark gleam in his eye. “If _we_ catch him, the Dark Lord will honor us and our fathers.”

Draco couldn't argue this so he simply nodded in agreement. Ever since Amycus Carrow took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and turned it into Learn to Use the Dark Arts, Vince and Greg had come into their own. They could now use spells they never could before – such as the Disillusionment Charm. Thus, the three of them cast the spell and leaned against the wall opposite from the Room while they waited.

Sure enough, Potter eventually arrived. He was immediately joined by his two best friends, who were carrying Basilisk fangs. They talked about Horcruxes (which triggered a sense of enlightenment in Draco), a mangled cup, and a diadem. Draco held his arms out to stop his friends from following Potter just yet. He had a feeling that...

Yep, a little later on, Potter was outside the Room again, pacing back and forth. _Now_ Draco couldn't stop his friends from following Potter if he tried. Draco lagged behind a little, secretly wishing that Potter would manage to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all before anything could stop him.

Unfortunately, once Potter was alone and it looked like he had spotted what he was looking for, Vince called out: “Hold it Potter,” as they dropped their Charms. Draco nearly sighed in frustration from where he stood behind his friends, who were eager to capture the only hope they had for a better life. Why didn't they realize that?

When Potter turned to face them, Draco suddenly noticed something a little upsetting. “That's _my_ wand you're holding, Potter.”

“Not anymore,” panted Potter. “Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who’s lent you theirs?”

“My mother,” Draco replied, feeling a bit surreal. They were having a fairly civil conversation. Almost like friends. Maybe Potter felt the same because he laughed even though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation.

“So how come you three aren’t with Voldemort?” Potter asked, sounding more curious than anything.

“We’re gonna be rewarded,” Vince answered in a soft and excited voice. “We ’ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to ’im.”

“Good plan,” Potter said in a tone that was the vocal equivalent of an eye roll. “So how did you get in here?”

Draco nearly rolled his eyes. “I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year. I know how to get in.” Which he was fairly certain Potter knew, so what was he wasting his breath asking for? He _was_ edging away from them, so maybe he was trying to distract them?

“We was hiding in the corridor outside,” grunted Greg, proud of himself and his abilities for possibly the first time. “We can do Diss-lusion Charms now! And then,” his face split into a gormless grin, “you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum! What’s a die-dum?”

“Harry?” Weasley’s voice echoed suddenly from the other side of the wall to their left. “Are you talking to someone?”

With a whiplike movement, Vince pointed his wand at the fifty-foot mountain of old furniture, broken trunks, old books and robes and unidentifiable junk, and shouted: “ _Descendo_!” The wall began to totter, then the top third crumbled into the aisle next door where it was more than likely that Weasley stood.

“Ron!” Potter bellowed as – somewhere out of sight – Hermione screamed. They all heard innumerable objects crashing to the floor on the other side of the destabilized wall. Potter pointed his wand at the rampart and cried: “ _Finite_!” The surprising result was that it steadied.

“No!” Draco shouted, staying Vince’s arm as Vince made to repeat his spell. “If you wreck the room you might bury this diadem thing!” And Potter apparently needed it to defeat the Dark Lord.

“What’s that matter?” Vince wondered with a frown, tugging himself free. “It’s Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?”

“Potter came in here to get it,” Draco growled with ill-disguised impatience at the slow-wittedness of his friends. “So that must mean —”

“ ‘Must mean’?” Vince turned on Draco with undisguised ferocity. “Who cares what you think? I don’t take your orders no more, _Draco._ You an’ your dad are finished.”

“Harry?” Weasley shouted again, from the other side of the junk wall. “What’s going on?”

“Harry?” Vince mimicked with malicious glee. “What’s going — _no,_ Potter! _Crucio_!” Potter had lunged for the tiara at that exact moment, so Vince’s curse missed him but hit the stone bust, which flew into the air. Draco watched as what must be the diadem soared upward and then dropped out of sight in the mass of objects on which the bust had rested.

“STOP!” Draco shouted at Vince in extreme frustration, his voice echoing through the enormous room. “The Dark Lord wants him alive —”

“So? I’m not killing him, am I?” Vince yelled, throwing off Draco’s restraining arm. “But if I can, I will. The Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what’s the diff — ?”

A jet of scarlet light shot past Potter by inches: Granger had run around the corner behind him and sent a nonverbal Stunning Spell straight at Vince’s head. Draco had no time to think, he simply reacted, pulling Vince out of the way.

“It’s that Mudblood! _Avada Kedavra_!”

Draco watched Granger dive aside, and then saw Potter's emerald eyes blaze with fury that Vince had aimed to kill. He shot a Stunning Spell at Vince, who lurched out of the way, knocking Draco’s mother's wand out of his hand; it rolled out of sight beneath a mountain of broken furniture and boxes.

“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” Draco yelled at Vince and Greg, who were both aiming at Potter. His frustration was now rapidly turning to outright panic.

Potter took advantage of their slight hesitation. “ _Expelliarmus_!”

Greg’s wand flew out of his hand and disappeared into the bulwark of objects beside him; Greg leapt foolishly on the spot, trying to retrieve it. Draco jumped out of range of Granger’s second Stunning Spell, and Weasley – appearing suddenly at the end of the aisle, shot a full Body-Bind Curse at Vince, which narrowly missed.

Vince wheeled around and screamed: “ _Avada Kedavra_!” Again.

Weasley leapt out of sight to avoid the jet of green light. All too aware that he was wandless, Draco cowered behind a three-legged wardrobe as Granger charged toward them, finally managing to hit Greg with a Stunning Spell.

“It’s somewhere here!” Potter yelled at her, pointing at the pile of junk into which the old tiara had fallen. “Look for it while I go and help R —”

“HARRY!” She screamed in something close to panic as well.

A roaring, billowing noise behind them gave them only a moment’s warning. Draco and Potter both turned and saw Weasley and Vince running as hard as they could up the aisle toward them.

“Like it hot, scum?” Vince roared as he ran, referring to the spell he'd cast. But he seemed to have no control over what he had done. Flames of abnormal size were pursuing them, licking up the sides of the junk bulwarks, which were crumbling to soot at their touch.

“ _Aguamenti_!” Potter bawled, but the jet of water that soared from the tip of Draco's stolen wand evaporated in the air.

“RUN!”

Draco had no idea who actually screamed that – it might have been him. He simply grabbed the still Stunned Greg and dragged him along. A feeling of betrayal filled him as Vince outstripped all of them, now looking terrified. Potter, Weasley, and Granger pelted along in Vince's wake as the fire pursued them.

It was not normal fire; Vince had used a curse they learned from Amycus – Fiendfyre. As Draco dragged Greg around a corner, the flames chased them as though they were alive. Sentient. Intent upon killing them. Now the fire was mutating, forming a gigantic pack of fiery beasts: Flaming serpents, chimeras, and dragons rose and fell and rose again... the detritus of centuries on which those flames were feeding was thrown up in the air into their fanged mouths, or tossed high on clawed feet, before being consumed by the inferno.

Draco couldn't see Vince as he did his best to drag Greg toward the exit. Potter, Weasley, and Granger had also vanished from view. Looking around, Draco noticed that the fiery monsters were circling him and Greg, drawing closer and closer, claws and horns and tails lashing about – the heat as solid as a wall around them.

“What can we do?” Draco heard Granger scream over the deafening roar of the fire. “What can we do?”

“Here!” Potter shouted in return, but Draco had no idea what the Boy Who Lived's plan was. All he knew was that he was about two seconds from death if he didn't do something. In desperation, he pulled Greg onto a pile of desks, hoping to get above the curse fire. Seconds raced by, each one felt like an eternity that passed in the blink of an eye. Draco accepted the fact that he was fated to die after all. Sadness filled him that his friend was going to die with him, but at least Greg was unconscious and wouldn't feel it. He hoped.

“Harry, let’s get out, let’s get out!” Weasley bellowed, though it was impossible to see him through the black smoke. Draco nearly laughed as he had a very profound realization. Not even this seemed to be able to kill Potter, which meant that he might actually win the war after all. Too bad Draco wouldn't survive to see what it was like to live in a world without the insane Dark Lord terrorizing them. The unfairness of it hit Draco like a punch to the gut, making him scream. Salazar and Merlin! How he wished he could calm down and spend his last moments singing and dancing – in essence flipping the Fiendfyre a big old two fingered salute.

“It’s — too — dangerous — !” Weasley yelled from somewhere far enough away that Draco barely heard him. What the hell was the Golden Trio still doing in this Gods' forsaken Room?

And he saw him: Potter riding an ancient broom, his black hair whipping about wildly. He looked powerful – like a God! Like a confident and sexy God that was coming closer to Draco, for some unfathomable reason. But since he was coming, Draco raised one arm in the slight hope that Potter planned to rescue him. But even as Potter grasped his hand, he knew that it was no good. Greg was too heavy and Draco’s hand was covered in sweat. Since he refused to let go of his friend, his hand slid instantly out of Potter’s. That was it, his last hope was shattered, except —

“IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” Weasley roared from somewhere very close by. Then, as a great flaming chimera bore down upon them, Weasley and Granger dragged Greg onto their broom and rose, rolling and pitching, into the air once more. No longer burdened, Draco wasted no time mounting the broom behind Harry. And yes, Draco would forever after refer to this beautiful boy as Harry in his head. He loved this boy and cherished the opportunity to hold him tight. For about a half a second.

“The door, get to the door, the door!” Draco screamed in Harry’s ear, prompting Harry to speed up; following Weasley and Granger – and the still unconscious body of Greg – through the billowing black smoke. Draco held Harry so tight that he was hardly able to breathe: and all around them, the last few objects unburned by the devouring flames were flung into the air. The creatures of the cursed fire cast them high in celebration: cups and shields, a sparkling necklace, and an old, discolored tiara —

“ _What are you doing?! What are you doing?! The door’s that way_!!!” Draco screamed, but Harry made a hairpin swerve and dived. The tiara – diadem Draco supposed – seemed to fall in slow motion, turning and glittering as it dropped toward the maw of a yawning serpent, and then Harry had it, caught it around his wrist — Harry swerved again as the serpent lunged at them; he soared upward and straight toward the place where – Draco fervently prayed even as he was unable to stop screaming – the door stood open. Sure enough, moments later, clean air filled their lungs and they collided with the wall in the corridor beyond.

Draco fell off the broom and lay facedown, gasping, coughing, and retching. Harry rolled over and sat up, provoking Draco's curiosity: The door to the Room of Requirement had vanished. Weasley and Granger sat panting on the floor beside Greg, who was _still_ unconscious. Lucky sod! But wait! Someone was missing...

“C-Crabbe,” Draco choked out as soon as he could speak. “C-Crabbe. . .”

“He’s dead,” Weasley stated harshly.

There was silence, apart from panting and coughing. Draco was torn between sadness at the loss of one of his few friends, and a dark and twisted sense of justice. It seemed fitting that after betraying him and Greg – casting a deadly curse, and then running off and leaving them to a horrible fate – Vince was the only one who actually died. Draco sort of hated himself for thinking that, but it didn't stop it from being true.

Suddenly, a number of huge bangs shook the castle, and a great cavalcade of transparent figures galloped past on horses, their heads screaming with bloodlust under their arms. Harry staggered to his feet when the Headless Hunt had passed and looked around: the battle was still going on all around them. They could hear more screams than those of the retreating ghosts.

Panic flared within Draco once more. With Harry and his friends basically ignoring them as they held a brief conference, and then ran off to do who knew what – join a duel, it seemed – it was up to him to drag his friend to safety. Especially since the wall blew up (covering them in rubble) and an Acromantula climbed through it!

It soon became apparent that Draco would never be able to drag Greg far, much less out of the castle. So, in desperation, he did the only thing he could think of. He located the tiny broom closet that he'd once hidden in while trying to spy on Harry in Fifth Year – when Harry illegally taught a group of students how to defend themselves in situations like this.

For many long minutes, Draco simply sat in the dark with Greg, but then, he realized that the small room was still very much structurally sound. Thus, it was likely to stay safe. Draco prayed he was right as he carded his hand through Greg's hair.

“I'm sorry to leave you, but I can't stay here,” Draco murmured to his unconscious friend. “I think you'll be safe here. Hopefully, once you wake up, you'll have a clear path out of the castle. Just try to wait until after the Acromantulas are gone. Good luck, my friend.”

As carefully as he could, Draco made his way toward the entrance hall. He was filled with a longing so powerful that it took his breath away; he wanted his parents. He – exactly like a small child – wanted nothing more than to cling to his mother and/or father and just let the adults handle this mess.

Just when he reached the first landing on the stairs leading down to the entrance hall – quite a while later since he'd had to move rather slowly to avoid combat – a colleague; a Death Eater in a mask – intercepted him. For whatever reason, the Death Eater did not care that Draco was _also_ marked.

“I'm Draco Malfoy! I'm Draco – I'm on your side!”

But the man (who Draco suspected might be Rowle) had gone mad from the battle and did not care. He aimed his wand at Draco and – was hit by a nonverbal Stunning Spell from out of nowhere. Draco looked around with a grin, filled with a sort of happiness because he could only think of one person (who was actually in the castle) that would bother to save him. He couldn't see his savior, but a punch that knocked him off his feet (onto the Death Eater) and a shout assured him that he was right. He stared up at the three people he couldn't see, so bemused that he didn't even care that his mouth was bleeding.

“And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!” Weasley roared.

Draco didn't say anything, sincerely afraid that he'd look like a love struck idiot if he actually thanked Harry. But damn! If they both survived this battle, Draco might just join Harry in the fight against the Dark Lord. Better yet, let Harry defeat the insane tyrant and Draco could –

Remain a coward, sadly. The thought of gathering up enough courage to actually talk to Harry after everything that's happened was scary. _Terrifying_!

Suddenly, he no longer felt like crawling like a baby to his parents. Even so, he couldn't stay here, so he found a good place to hide (in another broom closet, this one not too far from the entrance to the castle) for a few minutes until he could decide what exactly he should do.

 

***

 

At some point, Draco didn't actually know when since he might have inadvertently fallen asleep, the Dark Lord's voice boomed across all of time and space once more, startling him.

“Harry Potter is dead!”

Draco didn't hear what was said next because his heart had stopped. A droning buzz filled his head. He actually felt a sob rip through his chest and throat before he inhaled a large gulp of air and held his breath. No! The Dark Lord was lying! Harry could not possibly be dead!

Professor McGonagall startled him once more when she let out a terrible scream. “NO!”

Other anguished voices repeated her scream, also calling out: “HARRY!”

Still trying hard to convince himself that it was nothing more than a lie, Draco snuck out from his hiding spot and did his best to blend in with the crowd streaming out to face the Dark Lord. A sense of awe filled him as he watched Neville Longbottom – of all people, looking hotter than ever – defiantly stand up to the man who had absolutely no qualms about murdering him. Chaos erupted again, distracting everyone. Just when Draco was certain that Neville was about two seconds away from death, the Gryffindor broke free of his immobilization, swung a sword that appeared out of thin air (as far as Draco could tell), and beheaded Nagini.

“Bold move,” Draco whispered with a few tiny nods of frank appreciation.

Suddenly, everyone rushed back inside the castle, effectively pushing Draco into it at the head of a large crowd. He was ignored and pushed along so that he had a fairly good view when the Dark Lord burst into the castle. The majority of people basically lined the walls and watched the fighting until it looked like they were needed. However, common sense dictated that too many people trying to fight at the same time would just make everything worse.

Odd things kept happening. Shields appeared out nowhere, protecting those who the Dark Lord aimed at. Spells incapacitated Death Eaters here and there without an obvious origin. Draco was filled with hope once more. This simply _had_ to be Harry under his invisibility cloak!

What felt like every single person on the planet jammed their way into the Great Hall. Draco practically held his breath as he waited. At one point, he saw his parents running around, screaming his name. If he could move – he was being pressed into the wall by a thick crowd of people – he might have gone to reassure them. However, he _really_ wanted to see if Harry could actually do it; defeat the Dark Lord, so he stayed silent and waited.

His aunt died, causing him a surprising pang of sadness. The Dark Lord went crazier than usual, trying even harder to kill everything in his path. While it was true that the man who resembled a snake could not love anyone or anything, he did form attachments at times. His snake being the thing he came closest to loving. Bellatrix might well have been a close second on that list. Well, perhaps a _distant_ second, but still, she was on the list, and nothing else had that honor. Draco could understand his Lord's fury, even if it probably baffled everyone who wasn't a part of the inner circle.

Then...

“Protego!” Harry roared, throwing off his cloak and revealing himself at last. He was determined to protect the Weasley woman – who had killed Bellatrix – from the Dark Lord's unholy wrath.

The entire hall seemed to pause for a moment before erupting into a loud cry of: “Harry! HE'S ALIVE!” Even Draco cried that, not that anyone noticed. He hoped.

The crowd fell silent as abruptly as it had erupted. Harry and the Dark Lord now circled one another. Taunting each other. Yelling at each other. Not actually fighting, just circling.

“Come on, damn it!” Draco muttered under his breath. “Just kill him already!” Then he remembered the moment when he was supposed to kill Dumbledore; the moment when his own mini audience of Death Eaters was urging him to do exactly the same thing, only he couldn't. When faced with the prospect, Draco had realized that killing was a _lot_ harder than it sounded.

He fervently _prayed_ that Harry wouldn't have the same dilemma. After all, the Dark Lord deserved to die a _whole lot_ more than Dumbledore. In fact, the wizened Headmaster hadn't really deserved to die at all.

On and on they talked. _Talked_!!! What sort of battle to the death was this???

Draco perked up when he heard his name.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy,” Harry announced. The few people standing on either side of Draco who had bothered to notice him there, glanced at him as the Dark Lord looked blank from shock for a moment. They almost even seemed to pity – or maybe sympathize with? – Draco as the Dark Lord casually announced that he'd simply kill Draco after he killed Harry.

“But you’re too late,” Harry informed everyone listening with bated breath. “You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.”

Draco couldn't help but glare at Harry – the arse! Lording it about that he was better than Draco yet again. If he wasn't so tempted to shout: _Get on with it_! He'd grab a wand out of the closest hand and hex the arrogant bastard. Nothing serious. Maybe a dancing jinx. Harry could defeat the Dark Lord while suavely two-stepping. The thought made Draco grin.

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. Draco glanced up at it, wondering how even _the sun_ itself seemed to be on Harry's side. Cheering him on.

Then _finally_...

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Expelliarmus!”

There was a bang like a cannon blast and if Draco could breathe, he probably would have shouted obscenities at Harry for stupidly trying to counter the _completely unstoppable_ killing curse with a mother buggering _Expelliarmus_ ! Did the idiot _want_ to die?!

But no... wait... Could it be?

The Elder Wand had flown out of the Dark Lord's hand. As Harry caught it, the tyrant fell to the ground – looking shocked for a split second before his body seemed to wither into a feeble shell. He...

He was dead!!!

The great hall erupted into a deafening cheer. Draco joined in, even doing a jubilant jig. At this moment, he didn't even care that he was probably going to Azkaban – along with his father and any surviving Death Eaters. He probably deserved Azkaban and it was a small price to pay for the certain knowledge that the Dark Lord could never threaten him again.

Once more feeling like a small child, Draco spotted his parents standing uncertainly off to the side – staring at the body of the Dark Lord. He was dead certain that they were as relieved as he was. Pulling free from the crowd that was oh so slowly shifting to swarm Harry, Draco walked over to his parents and threw his arms around their necks. They broke out into soft sobs of relief that he was alive and well. More or less.

“It's over,” Draco whispered. His parents merely nodded. None of them moved, not wanting to go home just yet – and likely be accused of fleeing justice once their master had died – but not quite feeling like they belonged either. So they simply formed a huddle and held onto each other for as long as they could.

 

***

 

Life was still uncertain. There was going to be a trial to determine Draco's fate – and that of his parents. But it was deemed not as important as the trials of Death Eaters who tried to escape. The fact that the Malfoys were cooperating in every way meant that they were allow to stay in their own home and since none of them had wands, they only had an anti Apparation ward to confine them. Plus an Auror visiting once a day to make sure they hadn't tried to flee the country after all.

This meant that Draco had time to throw away everything in his room that reminded him of the Dark Lord. He wanted to change everything – remodel and redecorate so that he could find peace of mind. At least until he was sent to prison. His father tried to assure him that he would be pardoned since he was only following the orders of adults for the majority of his crimes. But Draco didn't dare hope for such a miracle.

Still, there was no harm in making himself feel better. With that in mind, he took a bath, pampering himself as much as possible. Then he performed his entire skincare routine – that had been neglected while he was depressed through much of Seventh Year. After that, he put on his customary subtle hint of makeup.

The last thing he did was dress up in a gorgeous and expensive set of dress robes in dark blue with silver embroidery of dragons all over it. Feeling almost (but not quite) content, Draco snapped his fingers and called out: “Muffy! All the elves in the ballroom please!”

A few minutes later, he entered the ballroom to find that his order had been obeyed. Grinning, he set the wireless to play a song for his instruments to learn while he directed the elves in choreography that came to him spontaneously. Upon reflection, he even ordered them to conjure up streamers to wave as they swayed and danced. When everything was ready, he sang for the first time in... he couldn't quite remember.

“I~~'ve had other guys, I've looked into their eyes, but I never knew love before, 'til you walked through my door. I've had other lips, I~~'ve sailed a thousand ships, but no matter where I go, you're the one for me baby, this I know 'cause it's true lo~~~ve. You're the one I'm dreaming o~~~f, your heart fits me like a glo~~~ve, and I'm gonna be [true blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P51LunEV3Sk), baby, I love you...”

On his second run through of the song, his parents wondered why they couldn't find any of the elves anywhere, and searched the entire Manor. The music they could hear in the ballroom was a major clue, and they walked in as Draco was singing: “No-oh more sadness, I kiss it goodbye, the sun is bursting right out of the sky, I searched the whole world for someone like you. Don't you know? Don't you know that it's – true love, oh baby, true love, oh baby, true love, oh–”

“Who are you singing about?” Lucius asked with deep curiosity.

“No one in particular,” Draco replied evasively. “I just like this song.”

“Uh-huh...” Lucius murmured in disbelief.

Draco swept his mother into a light dance as the song finished playing. “Isn't it nice to hear something light and happy?”

She purred happily in agreement. When the song started over, Draco sang as he twirled his mother around the floor. Lucius watched them with a soft smile.

“No seriously, who are you singing about?” Lucius asked again because he could hear the unmistakable ring of truth resounding from Draco's voice like a crystal glass being rubbed until it hummed.

Draco shook his head with a faraway smile. “No one important.”

“Draco...” His mother murmured gently, also wanting to know.

He smiled at her. “Well, if you must know, I think I've decided who I want to marry, but she's still in Hogwarts – has two more years, assuming that they rebuild the school. So, it'll be a while yet. You know, if I'm not in...”

“Who?” Narcissa wondered, a sense of motherly pride filling her.

“Astoria Greengrass,” Draco stated with a shrug.

Lucius bit his lip, frowning lightly. “It's a good match, but... Isn't the term 'guys' the American way of saying bloke?”

Draco flushed and shrugged. “It's just a song! I happen to like it is all!”

“If you say so,” Lucius muttered, feeling like his son was lying to him.

Narcissa kissed Draco's cheek. “I think your father is simply trying to say that it doesn't matter to us. We have come to the realization that we want nothing more than your happiness.”

“For a few agonizing hours during the Final Battle, we had no idea where you were or if you were even still alive,” Lucius added softly, sounding haunted. “I would have gladly given up our entire fortune to ensure your safety. It seems to me that there's no point in you being alive and well if you're not free to enjoy it. I'm doing everything I can to keep you out of Azkaban, so please, son... do whatever you have to in order to be happy.”

“Even...” Draco swallowed nervously. “Even if it means...” He took a deep breath. “Pursuing someone who more than likely hates me?”

“At least you'll know you tried,” Narcissa pointed out. “That's surely better than living your whole life wishing you had the courage to follow your heart.”

Draco sighed morosely. No matter what they said, he knew there was no hope. He shook his head. “No. He... wouldn't want me if I was the last person on the planet. I'm far better off with Astoria. At least she seems like she was made for me. I will be happy with her.”

“Alright, love,” Narcissa capitulated, hugging her son tight. “Just know that if you ever change your mind, we'll help you in any way we can.”

Lucius shook his head wryly and let out a nearly silent chuckle. “Even if it _is_ that brat you haven't been able to shut up about for the last seven years.”

Draco felt his heart stop and his eyes go impossibly wide. “What... what do you mean?” He asked a bit breathlessly – since his lungs seemed to have stopped working as well.

“Oh Draco...” both his parents murmured, giving him pointed _looks_.

Not sure how to cope with them apparently _knowing_ his deepest secret, Draco spun around and ran from the room.

 

***

 

To his utter shock, Draco's father proved to be right. Draco was acquitted of all charges. His mother was also assumed to be more or less innocent – especially since she lied to the Dark Lord for Harry.

Speaking of, Harry himself showed up to testify on their behalf. By this point, Draco suspected that the Wizengamot was just plain tired of these trials, because they took Harry's opinion on what should happen as a Divine Mandate and dropped all charges. Even those against his father!

It didn't help Draco's peace of mind that his father whispered this tidbit after the verdict was announced: “I think that boy might like you in return.”

Salazar's pendulous bollocks! How was Draco going to get any sleep – ever again – if he had that thought to dwell on? He had stared at Harry like a starving man gazing at a banquet he couldn't have the entire time, until Harry actually looked over at him and Draco had to hastily force himself to look blank, or maybe mildly bored. To his surprise, Harry gave him a tentatively friendly smile.

So...

So maybe. Just maybe...

His father might be right.

Unable to stand even the _thought_ of rejection, Draco watched Harry walk out of the courtroom and – in all likelihood – out of his life for good.

That night, Draco lay in bed thinking about Harry in a very hands on way. When his thoughts reached a highly satisfying conclusion, he laughed in mild embarrassment. And then burst into song.

“I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it throu~~gh. Didn't know how lost I was, until I found you. I was beat, incomplete. I'd been had, I was sad and blue, but you made me fee~~l, yeah you ma~~~de me feel, shiny and ne~~~~~w. Hoo! [Like a virgin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s__rX_WL100)... touched for the very first time. Like a vir~~~gin, when your heart beats, next to mine, gonna give you all my love boy. My fear is fading fast. Been saving it all for you, 'cuz only love can la~st.”

Draco trailed off, suddenly too sleepy to finish the song. His dreams were entirely pleasant for the first time in a long time. They not so surprisingly featured Harry.

In the morning, the Golden Boy himself showed up at the Manor. He smiled almost shyly at Draco as he held out Draco's wand. “I thought I should return this to you.”

Draco studied the wand in Harry's hand for a long moment before looking up and giving Harry a rather shy smile in return. “Thanks,” he said as he held out his hand.

Maybe... Maybe there was hope after all...

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think we all know that *I* assume this turns into Drarry, but I've tried not to deviate much from canon, so, the interpretation of what happens next is up to you :-)


End file.
